Synthetic Low
by Soldierofspirit6136
Summary: Dick Grayson is always alright. He's the strong one. He's Nightwing. He's a fighter, but what if something happens that changes his family's view of him? All his family can think of is that this isn't like Dick. What is wrong with him? Maybe it is not like what it seems. Always a happy ending and contains a bit of family bonding. Warning: Contains extremely depressing thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Wow, I'm tired. The whole vigilante during the night and cop during the day may be getting to me. It doesn't help that my alarm is blaring loud and clear next to my ear. Someone should really get that. Now me complaining doesn't mean I don't like my job. My jobs. I love them I really do. I don't like the alarm clock. But there really is nothing better than to put on the spandex and knock some heads then take of the spandex and knock some more. It's my dream.

Speaking of dreams, I was having this great one of a gaggle of giggling girls. Hehe. They were everywhere, I think I was in heaven. They were all around me, giggling louder and louder until they started to sound like a car horn. Or an alarm clock.

"God damn it. I'm up already!" I yell as I proceed to backhand my alarm off the side table. It hit the floor with a thump but kept blaring so I forced myself to get up and unplug it. I'm not chancing that thing turning on again. With a groan I head for the shower.

As I step into the spray all I can think about is how I should invest in an alarm clock that has a radio in it. All alarm clocks should play music. Who doesn't want to wake up to Freddy Mercury singing Bohemian Rhapsody . Though in my case it would most likely be Under Pressure. Another One Bites the Dust. My life is hard. Sometimes I just... Want to Break Free. Yaahhh… You know you need more sleep when you start to crack those jokes.

I really didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Well, less than usual. It wasn't that last night was exhausting, it was but that usually just gets me asleep quicker, but I've been kinda down lately. There have been a lot of suicides this week. Last night was numbers 13 and 14. In one week. The thing is, nothing I can do can help those people. There was no evidence of homicides. They just gave up fighting.

With that thought, I shake my head. No need to dwell on what can't be fixed right? I turn my mind back to my schedule for the day.

Well, step one of my day is done. Shower check. Teeth check. Clothes. I look down at the towel wrapped around my waist. "Nah, that can wait, breakfast it is."

I walk into my spacious kitchen attached to my luxurious dining area. Or my not so luxurious moth eaten couch in my extremely small kitchen outfitted with the only appliance a single man ever needs in his life. You guessed it, the microwave. "Let's see what is on the menu for this morning. Oh yah that's right I don't have a menu. Cereal it is."

I pull out my food choice for the day. The healthiest one I have. Low fat, Sugar Bombs. 25 grams of sugar for every half cup of cereal and not a significant source of protein, but hey low fat. I pour my chocolate milk in my cereal. Bruce says I have a sugar problem but what does he know. He has a lack- of- sugar problem. I bet the guy would be a lot more easy going if he ingested 100 grams of sugar each morning. That, or he'd be in a coma.

With my inner monologue continuing, I dump my empty dishes in the sink to do if I get to them later. The only reason it's not full is because I only have one set of dishes.

I quickly get changed into my uniform while simultaneously tidying up my Nightwing gear I left out last night. You can't lecture a guy about tidiness after he took down three drug operations in one night. Bludhaven and drugs kinda go hand in hand. Not that Alfred would take that as an excuse anyway. I shiver imaging the look on his face if he saw my apartment. But hey, I'm a 25 year old bachelor, I have a reputation to uphold as untidy and unorganized. All part of the cover.

Leaving that train of thought behind I step out of my apartment and lightly jog down the stairs. When I finally get outdoors I realize that it was actually a pretty nice day. The cars were honking, the the sirens blaring and a wonderful haze of smog was highlighting the sky. Yep, definitely one of Bludhaven's better days. Let's see what it has to offer.

Well, today offered, and I being the idiot I am, actually accepted. Great going Grayson, new record of screwing up. Any more, and the department will put your picture on the wall.

"Amy! How is he?" I slow down form my brisk jog to stand in front of her.

Captain Amy Rohrbach, stands against a wall in the waiting room of Bludhaven Central Hospital. "He'll live. If that's what you want to know. A graze to the left side of the head. No permanent damage but he's going to be out of it for at least a week." .

I look at the floor, "Oh, that's… good, I guess." Another mark for Grayson saying the worst, most awkward thing you can say after someone gets shot. "Look Amy, I…"

"No Grayson, I don't want to hear it. i'm sure you had your reasons for charging ahead. you always do, you just can't seem to get it into your head that they aren't good reasons. You saw an opening and took it, even after you've been told to never leave a partner behind. If you want to play the solo hero go put on a suit and prance around like one of the vigilantes" I inwardly flinch at that last statement, " because the police department is a team and i know you are more talented than most of them but that doesn't mean you control the game.'

She's angry, She hides it well but I've been trained to detect any emotion no matter how small or well concealed. That familiar feeling of shame and failure comes over me. This is my fault and I have no one to blame but myself, but I'm not one to give in to my failure.

"I'm sorry, Amy. i really am. You're right. This was my fault. I shouldn't have gone solo. I will change. I'll make it up to you. " Because Amy Rohrbach was one of the few good cops on the force and therefore one of the ones I greatly respected and valued. " I'll go back to HQ and …".

"No Grayson, just stop." She's exasperated by me. "Why don't you just take any early weekend. i'll see you on Monday."

"Wait Amy, I… ". but she's already turning away and walking through the double doors. I sigh deeply this time and for a brief second let the failure I'm feeling to control my emotions. Stop. You can't do this to yourself. I pause for a second before turning away and walking back down the way I came in.

As I leave the hospital I steel myself. I tell myself I'm moving past this failure and not looking back on it. Forgetting the past has worked for me so far so why stop now. I can use this four day weekend to catch up on some much needed zzz's . Or finish my case files. Or start my case files. What can I say, i'm more of a doer instead of taking notes kinda person.

With this new goal in mind I head back to my apartment. Things were already starting to look up. Sat next to a pretty girl on the bus, got her phone number( no one can resist my charm) and got a bag of free mints from a new street vendor. The minty chocolate kind. Best kind ever.

Back in my apartment I pull up a couch and my laptop and start working on my files while stuffing half the bag of candies in my mouth. I was just finishing the first file when Tim popped up on my screen wearing casual clothes but obviously in the Batcave. He just doesn't know when to stop working.

"Hey Timmy, long time no see! What are you doing out of school so early? " I say with my best grin on my face, truly happy to see him.

"I only have online courses in the afternoon, what's your excuse?" he says with a grin on his own. He must have seen my grin falter after he asked the question because he immediately dropped his smile. Damn detective instincts.

"What's wrong Dick? Did something happen at work?"

Those eagle eyes and high IQ make it tough to hide anything but a splinter from him. Sometimes I think Bruce trained him too well.

"Nothing Tim , just a hard day at work." I say trying to alleviate his worries.

" You don't usually bring your work home with you so come on, spill it, what's wrong?" And that's why we never throw Timmy a surprise party. Tried one time. The only thing he was surprised about was that we thought it would work.

I give a light sigh and resign myself to the fact that I have to tell him something. " It got a little bit hectic during a robbery at a jewelry store. My partner got shot."I leave out the part that it was my fault for leaving him. He seems to buy it, at least for the moment.

"I'm sorry Dick, is he alright?" That's Timmy for you. One of the only people in our messed up family that actually knows how to show emotion and tact.

"Yeah, he's good, just a bit scratched up. He'll be out it for a while but no permanent damage. They gave me the rest of the week off though, so that's kinda annoying."

He nods his head as if contemplating what I said, "Well, since you have all this free time what do you say to six liters of sugary, carbonated beverages and a movie marathon?". He breaks out into an even bigger grin than before and who am I to say no to that?

"You really do love me. " I say dramatically, trying to get a fake tear or two out to enhance the moment. Tim just smirks at my theatrical display.

"Trust me it's not easy sometimes but compared to the other family members…" He trails off. I don't need to guess what he's saying, I was thinking the same thing earlier. Tim has been staying at the mansion for a couple of weeks now until he's set up enough to continue traveling around the world, helping out with Batman Inc. I'm glad he's back and totally ecstatic to be able to hang out with him tonight.

"You bring the drinks and I'll bring the movies."

He looks like he is going to protest but I stop him, " I'm sorry Tim, but we are not having another disaster like 6 hours of the wonder of quantum physics again. There is only so much education a man can take. "

He looks a bit offended but when he sees my smile he knows I mean well. " Alright, but if we are making rules against movie types then I say no black and white movies."

I gasp, "Tim what do you mean? Those movies were awesome! Like Frankenstein and Casablanca and…

"You only like those movies so you could make fun of them while we were watching." He starts to mimic in a high pitched, overly dramatic voice.," Run, old lady! Get away from the monster he's moving slightly faster than a snail. Ahh he's catching up, hit him with your cane!"

"You loved that movie and you know it! And my voice is not that high! I have a very sultry voice!"I brag at the laptop.

"Right, " Tim replies sarcastically," and who tells you that?".When he sees my mischievous grin he cuts me off, "Wait, never mind, I don't want to know. I'll see you later Dick. I got to finish up here but I'll be there in 4 hours around 6ish and then we can go patrolling together afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan Timmy! Remember to bring the sugar!" I call out just before he signs off.

Yah, I totally don't have a sugar problem. With the room once again quiet I lost my interest in my files and turn off the laptop. My mind goes back to the events of the day and I sink lower in the couch. Why can't I get this off my mind? Another sigh and I decide to catch up on those zzz's I mentioned earlier. I lay down and once again take a while to finally fall asleep.

Tim's POV:

I arrive at dick's apartment just after 7. I'm late I know but when I tried to leave earlier, Bruce called me up and asked for some research into a new gang's operations. They have only been in Gotham a few months and already they are making a name for themselves. Bruce got a tip that the gang has been focusing on creating new types of illegal drugs. I needed to give him a full list of any drug dealers they may have contact with to give him a start.

I shift the bags in my hand start climbing the stairs. Why did Dick have to live in a place with no elevator on the fourth floor? Who wants to climb all these stairs every morning? Dick probably loves it. A picture of my 'older' brother sliding down the stairs railing every morning comes into my head. Yep, that's Dick, never a dull, unhappy moment.

I smile to myself. He has a way of brightening any room and that is saying something when he's lived with the Batman for most of his life. And the Demon, hard to forget Damian when you are living under the same roof as him, checking around every corner in case he's lying in wait because he's got no better hobby than to try and cause chaos.

I don't know how Dick does it. The biological Waynes are bad enough separately and now its seems Dick is also handling them well together too. The only one with more determination to stick with them would be Alfred but he's in a league of his own when it comes to dealing with extremely stubborn and sometimes volatile vigilantes.

I let myself in the door, having gotten a key from Dick if I ever need a place to crash. It's just what Dick does. "Dick? " i call out, "I'm here. Sorry I'm late."

I hear a kind of incoherent grumbling coming from the next room so I suspect i might have woken him from an evening nap. I head into the kitchen/ living room and place the three 2L bottles of the sugariest drinks I could find on the counter. It was only then that I noticed the beer bottles.

To packs of beer lay next to the fridge, all empty. I didn't realize Dick drank so much during the week. I didn't peg him for the couple beers a night guy. Then I notice the smell.

A heavy smell of alcohol too strong to be coming from the beer bottles alone. I finally turn around to see the living room in a mess. Beer bottles lay strewn about the floor, and several bottles of what could be wine or tequila, half empty. I didn't remember seeing this mess while talking with dick earlier today so i can only conclude that he drank them since.

As for Dick himself, he was lying sprawled on the couch. One arm hanging off the side still holding a beer bottle, while the other was flung over the back of the couch. He was currently trying to lift himself into a sitting position and failing miserably. Dick was completely drunk.

"Dude, what happened? You almost never drink! "

Dick opens his eyes and spurs himself more into a sitting position. "What are you doing here?" He asks in a slurred and gravelly voice. It sounds like he's been at it for a while.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? We were going to watch a few movies together." I explain in an irritated voice. Because hey, it seems Dick would rather get drunk for no reason than hang out with me. "I was only an hour late and you decide to trash the night and drink yourself dumb instead?"

Dick's eyes suddenly turned hard. Having reached a sitting position and discovering he was still holding a beer bottle he proceeded to drink it.

I stand there flabbergasted. " Dick, what's up with you? Enough with the alcohol already!" I'm beginning to get angry.

Dick just stares at me and raises his drink again finishing it without losing eye contact with me. It was like he was taunting me!

He speaks in a voice as cold as his stare, " No. I don't care what you say or anyone else says.".

This is so uncharacteristically Dick I try to snap him out of his stupor by mentioning patrol," What about Bludhaven? Who's going to patrol tonight? "

"To hell with patrol! We can't save anyone anyway. Let them kill themselves off if they want to. The city doesn't want me anyway. I'm a failure. "

That statement is followed by a long silence. Dick took it as a chance to down another beer but I just stood there in shock. What's wrong with dick? This isn't him!

I decide to go for the direct approach. "Dick, what the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were okay?" I shout angrily.

He gives a humorless snort. " Yeah, I'm okay," He replies in the same sarcastic voice with a growing dark edge to it, "I'm always okay right? I'm the golden boy, the first, the best. Nothing gets to me. I take care of myself! I'm not worth looking after. I'm a failure and a screw up!".

He's practically screaming at me now. I don't know what to do, I've never seen him like this before. " Dick, calm down okay, no one believes any of those-".

"Shut up!" He yells, now standing still with a bottle clutched tightly in his fist., " I don't want to hear what you say! Get out! "

"Like hell I'm leaving! I'm just trying to help!" I'm desperately trying to help.

"I said GET THE HELL OUT!" He screams as he chucks the bottle in his hand at me.

I dodge the bottle and it hits right where my head use to be. The glass shatters against the wall and showers the floor. A tense silence once again falls over the apartment.

Dick is standing perfectly still, staring at where the glass hit and ultimately where my head would have been if I hadn't moved. I continue to stare at him with a growing expression of shock and horror on my face. We wait in silence for the other to make a move.

I see his expression change to one of realization and I instantly bolt to the door. He tries to follow but being so heavily intoxicated he is nowhere need my speed. I'm out the door and down the stairs before I can hear any more pleading shouts or see his utterly horrified expression.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Dick's POV:

I'm shocked. Frozen and utterly horrified. What did I just do? What is wrong with me? As the realization fully hits me that I just tried to hurt my little brother, I see Tim sprint for the door, an equally shocked facial expression on. I try to run after him but trip over my own legs.

"Tim! Stop! I'm sorry!" I call out to him, but he is already down the stairs and out the door. I collapse to the ground.

Flashes of Tim's horrified eyes run through my mind. No, not just horrified, but terrified. Terrified of me, of what I did. What is wrong with me!? I chucked a bottle at his head! I was just so angry and sad and I just wanted him gone. I didn't want him to see me so pathetic and weak!

I start to sob as my mind turns to darker and darker thoughts. If Tim hadn't had such good reaction time the bottle would have hit him. I was aiming for his head! Why? I could have killed him! I could have watched my brother die in my arms from my mistake! Images of Tim's bloody body flash through my mind as I continue to rock back and forth with my sobs.

Eventually I crawl back to my apartment, still sobbing and break down on the couch. Repeating thoughts of hurting, KILLING my brother, how pathetic and weak I am, what a failure I am and my little brother's terrified eyes pass through my head for hours until I let the alcohol and exhaustion take me.

Tim's POV;

By morning I'm calm and controlled. The ride back to the mansion was the worst of my life. Luckily, no one saw me sneak into the house and up to my room. I don't think I could live with myself if Bruce or even worse, the Demon child, saw me crying my eyes out. I'm 16 and yet I still cried like a baby.

When I wake up I am determined to tell no one of what happened last night. A part of me understands that it isn't helping anyone by ignoring what happened but the other part of me is desperately hoping that life could just somehow go back to normal and all of this would be forgotten.

I continue my day like normal, and head down for breakfast. Even though I'm acting completely normal, Alfred still seems to detect that something isn't quite right. I give him a small smile and eat my eggs and bacon.

Damian comes down shortly after and with a huff sits down at the far end of the table. I proceed to ignore him like any other morning and focus on my schedule for the morning trying to ignore the horrible feeling in my gut caused by last night..

After eating, I am back in my room determined to finish all of my online courses for the day early and then head down into the cave for some research. Anything to get my mind off of last night. I find doing simple calculus equations peaceful and eventually feel calm enough to study Dick's behavior last night from a 3rd party view. Or as Dick would call it; Detective mode.

Dick was obviously upset over something last night. Something triggered his drinking and it must have been big because I have never even heard of him ever getting that drunk. He was fine when I called around 1 that afternoon. He was a little sad about his police buddy who got shot but Dick said he would be fine. He seemed to be handling it.

Unless there was some sort of problem and the man died. I quickly look up the Bludhaven Central Hospital to see how the police officer was doing. The files noted a bullet graze to the head but said that the man is well on his way to recovery and resting comfortably. That can't be it then.

So what else could have happened between 1 and 7 that night. There was less than 6 hours for Dick to get some kind of bad news and then hammered trying to forget it. It doesn't' make sense. It isn't any date related to his parents or anyone else in the family. There are not not enough clues to go on.

I need to talk with someone who has a different perspective who has known him for longer. It might provide more clues. Bruce is out of the question, he would just go all Batman on Dick and make an awful situation truly horrific. Damian hasn't known Dick for that long and probably wouldn't even care. Alfred is a possibility but he is not really the type that Dick would talk about more of his serious problems with because he wouldn't want to upset him. That leaves only one person.

Damn…. I have to call Jason. His relationship with the family is really strained but he is still kinda on our side. We call him on rare occasions when we need some serious back up. He does have more experience with what causes a man to drink and he's known Dick a long time. He's the only choice. But damn... I really hate calling him.

After finding my phone and a few minutes of pep talk, I steel myself and call Jason. I almost don't want him to pick up but by the 3rd ring a grumpy and all too familiar voice answers, " What do you want, Replacement?"

3 Hours Later: Wayne Manor

"This better be good Replacement. Now, what's wrong with Dick?"

I could tell from his voice that he really doesn't want to be here. The way he gets right to the chase confirms the theory that he wants to be done with this house call as soon as possible.

I take a breath and start to fill him in. " Listen Jason, I'll get right to it. Dick's been drinking. A lot. He got completely hammered last night beyond the ability of cognitive thought.".

"What? You gotta be kidding me? Golden boy got wasted? Ha! This is just too good! Not so perfect anymore is he?" Jason laughs with an edge of satisfaction.

The sound of Jason using the term that Dick spat with so much hate had me instantly angry at Jason, "Stop! Will you just shut up for once? This isn't funny!" .

Amazingly, Jason actually does shut up. He must have noticed the angry undertone in my voice that I so rarely use. He seems to realize that if it wasn't serious he would have been the last man I would call.

"How bad is it then? What's wrong with him?" He asks, letting a small hint of worry into his voice which he tries to cover with a snide comment," It can't be that bad, right? It's Dickie bird."

I look him in the eye and answer him with a tone of certainty," It's extremely bad".

He sees the conviction in my eyes and knows to take the conversation seriously. "So how do you know it's bad? "

" I…" I pause for a small second wondering if I should tell him of my involvement,"I went over to his apartment last night and he had already downed two cases of beer and 3 bottles of spirits in less than 6 hours. " .

Jason sees my hesitation to tell him everything and looks at me with a searching look. Damn, sometimes I forget that he was trained by the Batman too. " Did anything happen while you were there?".

Getting too close to the mark. I'm starting to regret asking him for advice. I try to distract him from me. " No, why would you ask that?".

He continues to look at me critically, until he seems to back off," Well, it's just that I've seen a lot of drunks before. Some of my best buddies are drunks and they can get a little mean sometimes. I've also seen a lot of liars and I kinda thought you would be a better one than that. " .

He hit the mark. Damn, I know he is not going to let me go now without an answer. I sigh. " Fine, When I went over he was a mess. No where near cognitive and he was just talking about how his life sucked and everyone thought he was pathetic and that he wasn't important. I tried to tell him that it wasn't true but he started getting angry at me." Here, I falter, not wanting to get Dick into trouble.

But Jason continues to watch me with a thankfully emotionless expression on his face so I continue," He yelled at me to leave. He was really drunk. And when I didn't, he threw a bottle at me. "

I expected Jason to laugh or make a comment about how he knew all along that Dick hated me but, he didn't. He looked a bit angry but I don't think it was at me. I was actually surprised what the first thing he said was," Are you hurt?" .

I was shocked he was worried but I answered any way with a shake of my head, "No, I dodged it.".

" What happened afterwards?"

I looked down to the ground and quietly answered, "I ran.".

Once again, I was expecting a laugh or snide remark but he obviously realized how bothered I was by what happened and didn't comment at all. I have never been more grateful to him.

"Do you know why he was so down and out?".

I shook my head no, "I was hoping you would know. I talked to him earlier and he seemed fine just a little stressed from work and 'other' work. But he seemed genuinely happy. We were going to watch some movies together." The last comment was said at a whisper almost too quiet to hear.

Jason seemed to have made up his mind."Alright. I'm going over to his place tonight. I don't know why he's like this but I'm going to ask or at least knock some sense into him. If he tries to toss a bottle at my head I'll knock him down a few pegs." He said with a smirk, emphasizing his meaning by punching one fist into the other.

With the return of Jason's snarky side, my confidence rose and I felt a lot more sure that he would be able to help. I was about to thank him because we seemed to be on better turns now but he turns around and comments one last time," Oh and Timmy, if you need any more practice dodging bottles I'd be happy to chuck some at you."

As he leaves I shake my head. Yah, I should have seen that coming. It is Jason after all. Yet after he was gone I still couldn't help but feel closer to him. He gave his own unique kind of comfort when I needed it. He was almost like a big brother.

Dick's POV:

I sink to the floor, my back against the couch and reach for another joint. When I collected these my intent was to keep them out of the hands of children. To take away the income that goes to the drug dealing scum that don't care who wants it as long as they pay. I guess I gave up on that now.

I ran out of alcohol this morning. There is no way in hell I was going outside until I had to, so I searched through my locker of confiscated items to find another way to forget. I never thought I would get this desperate. I look down at the joint in my hand. I just need to escape. A constant stream of thoughts runs through my mind. An inner monologue I have no control over replays my failures to me.

I can't save anyone. I only fail at everything I do. I hurt those I love. I'm pathetic. I will never be loved. I'm not good enough. My life is worthless. They have all abandoned me.

I can feel it now. The peace that comes with being empty. Nothing in the world can bother me here. In this moment. Then I hear the front door slamming open.

"Yo, Dickie, we need to have a bit of a conversation."

He's all confidence and attitude. Always is. He sounds like he is determined yet when he walks into my main room, he pauses.

I see him take in the room and the new 'redecorating' I had done in the past 2 days. His sharp eyes take in the cans and the bottles, the pizza boxes I ordered during the times I was sober, and finally settled on me sitting on the floor. He takes in my appearance with a critical eye, noting my unshaven jaw, dark eyes, and dirty clothes. He looks away.

"Wow, didn't peg you as a messy drunk. There better still be pizza in one of those boxes." He says it in a voice that would convince most people that he was only there for the food. But I know better. Jason uses his nonchalance as a defense mechanism. The uncaring attitude is a front so he won't get hurt.

I say nothing as he searches the the boxes littered around the apartment. He continues talking, "I heard about your little scuffle with Timmy, didn't think you had it in you."

His voice comes from behind me. He's trying to get me to open up. His technique is 100 % Jason, using subtle boldness to get answers. I take another inhale on my cigarette.

As I lift my hand he seems to finally notice what I'm holding. He goes silent behind me. I'm actually surprised he didn't notice the smell sooner, but maybe he thought it was coming from another apartment. I do live in that neighborhood.

When he finally speaks moments later, his voice is dark and raw with barely restrained emotion. Knowing Jason, it is probably anger. " What the hell is that?" .

I stay seated with my back turned towards him. He already knows and I am in no mood to humor him, " What does it look like?" My answer is blunt and obviously not the one he wanted.

If I as in a better mood I would probably be worried for my safety but right now I couldn't care less.

I lift the drag to my mouth again but Jason moves around to the side of the couch and rips it out of my hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?! What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me? I'm fine!", My voice is steadily rising along with my rage. Everyone seems to think this is so weird of me. That because I finally focus on myself there must be something wrong with me. "Why are you mad at me? I didn't ask for you to come check up on me! Maybe you are just mad that I started without you!" .

He flinches at my last comment. The underlying meaning is unmistakable. It was cruel of me to bring up Jason's weakest moments. He used to turn to drugs to get away from the horrors he saw. He's been off for almost two years but it was a lot of pain and sorrow to get him there. I guess he must see it as a betrayal to him considering I was one of the friends who helped him get off.

I can see him shaking slightly, fists tightly clenched. He's staring at my feet instead of my eyes trying to collect himself. Finally, after a moment of pause, he speaks in a strained voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl. " You're a bastard, you know that? I came here because… I guess it was because I thought I was needed. I thought I could help. I guess I was wrong. You don't need or want my help. And I'm done being nice enough to offer." He throws my cigarette back at my feet, " Go smoke yourself to death for all I care." .

He turns his back to me and leaves without a second thought. I don't stop him. I just want to be left alone. I just want to ignore the world. I want to be forgotten.

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I usually don't get so depressing in my stories. I just love the Dick Grayson character! I probably wouldn't have taken so long to write this chapter but it was hard to come up with a realistic confrontation between Dick and Jason. I hope I did them justice. Please review, I would love feedback and ideas. You guys and girls out there are all awesome? (Extra awesomeness for those who review though).**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: **Thank you to all who are continuing to read. You wont be disappointed. I have everything planned out and am just putting it together. Enjoy the story.**

 **Warning: Its going to get depressing. May be a trigger to some. Read carefully.**

Tim's POV:

Jason didn't come back the next day. I called him but he wouldn't pick up. I can only assume that his confrontation with Dick did not go well last night. If he had been able to talk some sense into him he would have sent some kind of quick and insulting yet somewhat relieving text. I don't know what to do. I am even more convinced that I may have to talk to Bruce. He'll find out eventually, he is the world's greatest detective.

Maybe I should let some of his friends know. He is still close with the titans. I know Roy and Wally are some of his best friends. But it would almost seem cruel to drag them into this. They wouldn't want to see Dick like this anymore than I want to. Dick wouldn't want them to see him so weak. No, not weak, confused. Hurt. He's hurt, but why? That is what I don't understand. What started this? And if I'm such a great brother, why didn't I notice this sooner?

Damian's POV:

Drake has been acting gloomy lately. I would not normally bother myself with things concerning him. Usually I would be gladdened by his morose behavior. However, his constant sighs and reflective facial expressions are sometimes even more annoying. He cannot sulk in peace it seems, but has to drag the whole household into an atmosphere of depression. I'm surprised Father has permitted it. He is rather distracted with the new drug gang attempting to gain presence in Gotham. Or rather has already stated its presence.

Father seems worried that such an obviously large drug operating business was able to sneak into Gotham and become so successful so quickly yet have no ties to any other cartel or even mobster in the city. We have already interrogated both Penguin and Two face, while Joker remains locked in Arkham for what is close to a record time of two weeks, 1 day.

Perhaps the melancholy air is not emanating from Drake alone. Something must be done to lighten the air or it will stifle any pleasure I gain from being the cause of Drake's misery.

Bruce's POV:

"Computer, enter into subcategory Drug Organizations, under name, Unholy Corpses." I speak. I walk back and forth across the stone floor of the cave, collecting my thoughts. "The Unholy Corpses appear to be Gotham's newest drug cartel. They have never been heard of until now and yet have already made a name for themselves creating new and improved drugs. I have not yet been able to collect a sample of any 'new' drug nor have I even been able to capture a member of the organization long enough to interrogate. As soon as I even appear on the scene, they commit suicide without batting an eye. "My voice tapers off and for moment I let the weight of what I had said wash over me, pulling out a sigh of weariness. " An organization that strikes such fear into their subordinates does not bode well for Gotham. I have been unable to identify a leader or even a council that oversees what I can only assume to be a large operation with long reaching arms and high sights." I stop walking, "This seems to be a very new type of drug ring that I have not yet encountered. I must learn as much as I can as quickly as I can about the leader who inspires enough fear to make death a more welcome alternative to life…. End entry." I turn away from the screen and think back to the fear I had seen in a 16 year old boy's eyes. A boy stupid or desperate enough to sell drugs for a cartel. I think quickly to my boys, immensely glad that I would never see that look in their eyes that the boy had before he slit his own throat with a knife. "I swear I will never let anyone witness that again." I enter the night, the boys' faces in my head making me fight that much harder.

Jason's POV:

Damn him! Damn that egotistical, hypocritical bastard! I am currently trying to salvage what I can from the rampage I had last night after I got home. Not much survived. Another reason to damn that dick for making me angry enough to do this. 'Yah,' I hear a little sarcastic voice in my head say, 'It was all his fault.' I crouch and ignore the stupid voice, "Damn right it was." I turn a chair as right side up as it will go on two legs and spot what I was looking for. "Finally!" I say as I snatch the remote off the ground. I brush the glass off the couch and lay down, pointing the remote at where the TV was supposed to be instead of in a million tiny pieces on the ground. "Damn! Another thing I'm blaming Dick the Prick for." I once again hear that ever annoying cynical voice, 'Yah right.'

Dick's POV:

I feel nothing. No hurt. No pain. No feeling of failure. Just nothing. I ran out joints and pick me ups hours ago. I became desperate. The euphoria and peace gave way to shame and self-hatred. What I had done was eating away at me. First Tim and now Jason. What kind of brother am I? They hate me now. Despise me. What would Bruce say? My breath hitches in my throat and I struggle for a second to breathe. The drugs must be wearing off. I reach for another needle. I never thought I would become this. The kind of drugee you find in hospitals. I had to though. I had to stop the pain. Even the euphoria was becoming too much for me. I just needed nothingness. I needed it all to stop. I needed to stop. To become nothingness. I can't even remember what I was like before. I see faces and pictures pass through my mind but I feel nothing for them. Who are they? I don't know. I don't care.

'But I should care'. A small voice in my mind says. And all of a sudden, this nothingness is too much as well. What have I become? I remember the laughter and the smiles. 'Family', I think. I want my family. But I can't go back to them. I am nothing. There is nothing filling me up. Just the drugs. Just the emptiness. I don't want to be empty anymore. I feel like I have lost myself to the void. The hole inside of me. I can't take it! I want to feel something! Anything!

The pain of loss and hollowness becomes too much and I reach for another syringe. I don't care about overdosing. I pick up the syringe with shaky and weak hands and I fumble it. I feel the pain as the needle cuts into my skin and it's a welcome relief. I can still feel something. The blood signifies that. It runs down my arm and drips to the floor but that one cut filled me for a moment. It left me wanting for more. I pick up the broken needle and move it purposefully. I can feel it. I never thought I would miss pain so much but I welcomed it. Desperately needing its taste more than any drug. It fills me with red but at least it is not black. I no longer fear death.

Damian's POV:

I can't believe I am here. This goes against my entire constitution. I do not rely on others for help. Yet even the depressing aura that is surrounding Wayne manor is starting to get to me. Both Father and Drake do not seem to notice enough to care but I refuse to live in a house that spends 99% of its time brooding. Even though it is the last thing I want, because he is one of the most annoyingly cheerful people on the planet, the household needs Grayson.

 **Sorry for the cliff hanger. I just had to. I'm not trying to be sadistic, honest. Thank you to all those who reviewed and stuck with my story. You rock. You can be reassured that I am going to keep updating and even adding a new story. I will finish this one I promise! Special thanks to one Guest who said my story was very ingesting. Never heard that one before, but I'll take it as a complement. Till next time. Same bat channel, same bat time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry this took so long. So, so sorry. I'm sure you guys have heard all the excuses out there for why writers take so long or why they don't finish the stories, etc. so I won't repeat em all for you. But let me assure you, I will finish this story. I will. Thank you to all those who favorited and followed and especially to those who reviewed. You are the reason I am going to keep writing. Enjoy!**

Chapter 4:

Tim's POV

I wasn't in the cave when the alarm went off. I didn't even know anything was wrong until I saw Alfred run to the phone. He was pale and frantically trying to appear calm. I have never seen him so shaken. I was watching this all from the doorway leading to the living room. At first I didn't understand until I realised who Alfred was calling… Lesley. The best doctor in Gotham and one of the scariest and most stubborn. That is the only reason she is able to hold any sort of control over our health and recuperation periods even though we are stubborn vigilantes, she never loses an argument.

Although Lesley is as close a family friend as this family has, a call to her means no less than someone is inches away from death. I feel my own face pale as I quickly turn to the entrance to the cave located behind the grandfather clock in Bruce's office. My brain rapidly goes through all current open cases that could possibly lead to an injury serious enough to call Lesley but none surface in my panicked brain as I descend the stairs.

As I reach the main floor I turn towards the large monitor continuously blaring a harsh alarm. It was Damian's emergency signal. I didn't know Damian was going out tonight, its not even 8 yet. What could have happened to make him desperate enough to call for help before 8 on a Sunday night? I notice that one of the many batmobiles is gone and assume that Bruce has already left for Damien's location. It must be an emergency if he didn't even let me know he was leaving. I turn off the still blaring alarm and quickly look up the coordinates of where Damien's signal was coming from. The icon pulses above a familiar map of a familiar city and a familiar building.

I feel my pulse growing louder and louder almost beating in time with the alarm icon on the screen until it drowns out all other sound. "Dick…."

Less than 15 minutes after Alfred called, Lesley was rushing into the infirmary, years of practice having made her and Alfred extremely efficient in the setting up of medical technology that may be used. Several cases of blood were brought out and set up along with IV bags, heart monitors and any other equipment Lesley deemed necessary. Seeing them both run around makes me want to help, but I know that my offer would only delay them in their routine preparation.

I leave the infirmary and walk towards platform where the batmobile will return too. All I can think of is an endless cycle of what, why when, how, who? Who is hurt? Why was Damian at Dick's place? Were they attacked somehow? I want to believe that it could be nothing. Damien could be a bit hurt and Dick had gone all protective big brother and called, but I knew I was only fooling myself. The evidence was all there in the memory of Dick's tortured eyes as I ran away from him. Something had been wrong and I left him. He probably went out on patrol the next night and was being reckless and stupid and got himself shot. Its rule number one that when you go out on patrol you leave your baggage behind but its common knowledge that Dick always has a harder time at separating work and personal. "Dammit! I shouldn't have left him!" My hoarse shout echoes about the cave to become lost in the rustle of bats wings heard overhead. For the next several minutes I am only accompanied by the sound of waking bats as they prepare for the night and my own inner voice cursing myself for my cowardice.

I was snapped out of my self-deprecating thoughts by a thrumming in the air, quickly growing louder until the roar of a powerful engine could be heard. As the vehicle pulled onto the platform with sharp precision the bats overhead scattered. I mentally readied myself for the worst as I stepped forward intending to help. The cockpit of the heavily armed vehicle unlatched and pulled back seconds before a dark and swift figure leaped from the driver's seat.

I instantly knew something was wrong. I have seen the Batman in many harrowing situations, from atomic bomb threats to gang wars to psychopathic killing sprees. I have seen him been tortured, blinded, broken and seen him carry many a broken body himself and yet he never loses his focus or his intent. In everything that happens the one certainty in it, is that the Batman will remain logical, confident and in control. This Batman was none of those things.

To an untrained eye, he may appear calm and focused however I was far from untrained, especially in the art of reading the mannerisms of Gotham's greatest protector. As he stepped out of the vehicle, I could see the uncertainty in the falter of his step. The lack of precision as he drew open the door. I looked into the passenger side and saw it empty. Where was Damien or Dick? Did something happen to both of them?

I finally pushed my thoughts aside and opened my side of the back seat. The first thing I saw was Damien sitting in the seat closest to me with his oldest brother's head in his lap. The second thing I saw was the blood. As soon as I saw the blood I shut my emotions down. I would be of no help to him if I panic now. "Alfred, bring a gurney!" I shout, mildly relieved that my voice doesn't crack or sound like I was as close to hyperventilating as I really was.

Before Alfred could come out of the infirmary, however, Batman carefully lifted Dick into his arms and cradled him against his chest. Without even sparing me a glance, he ran as fast as he could while carrying a full grown man into the medical room. He doesn't say a word but as he passes I can hear the quickness of his breath and realised I may not be the only one here close to hyperventilating.

I follow him as he marches to the table where Lesley was motioning to put him down. There was a lot of blood, more than I have seen in a while and it was coating Dick's arms and chest. With Alfred, Batman and Lesley all rushing around the table inserting IV's and attaching heart beat and blood pressure monitors it was difficult to get any view of what was wrong, however, I could hear their conversations just fine.

"Dammit! What did he do!? Severe lacerations across his inner forearm, I need IV and blood now!"

"We can't use a vein in his arms or we will cause even more damage!"

"We can insert the IV into the veins of his foot. Pass me the needle! Bruce, get out of the way!"

"Blood pressure is too low. He's in hypotension, we need that blood now!"

"What did he use? "

"A broken needle from a syringe. He may have some form of narcotic in his system still."

"Dammit! Stupid boy! Alfred, we need to test which type of drugs he may have taken or any further medication could shut down any one of his bodies systems!"

Lacerations? Broken needle? Dick wouldn't… he couldn't…. why would he ever… My mind was a jumble of questions and denials of the answers that I knew were right in front of me. All of a sudden, I needed to get away from the sterile, white room and the too still and quiet figure laying on the table. I turned and ran out of the room, into the strange comfort that the familiar darkness of the cave could provide.

My run brought me closer to the batmobile parked on the platform, doors still ajar. I realised that I could still see the silent figure of Damien in the back seat. He looked like he hasn't moved since Dick was taken out of his arms. He just continued to sit and stare forward into nothingness, a strange and unwelcome blank look on his face.

I quickly crouched down next to him in the open car door and looked into his face for any sign of recognition. I had never seen his face look so empty. It was common place to see it full of blank indifference and disinterest but the darkness in his eyes hinted at another cause.

I quickly listed the symptoms of shock in my head; pale, clammy skin, dizziness, weak and rapid pulse, and most worrying of all, drop in blood pressure. I reach into the car and gently place my hand on his shoulder. Due to the lack of trying to cut my hand off and vehement insults I can only assume that my diagnosis was correct.

I give him a quick once over for any injuries but find none. I can't help but notice the large amount of blood on his uniform and shudder. I can't help Dick right now, but maybe I can still be of use. I gently shake Damien's shoulder again, "Come on Damien, let's get you up."

I see a flash of recognition in his eyes when I say his name and take that as an agreement as I maneuver his legs so he's sitting away from the car. I put my arm under his shoulder and across his back and slowly stand up. I'm supporting most of his weight but he is still technically on his feet. I decide that being down here won't help his situation so I bring him upstairs into his room.

His room is always meticulously clean. Not a book out f place. I bring him to his private bathroom and sit him on the edge of the bathtub. I go grab some warm looking pajamas and pray to God he doesn't fight me when I try to get him into them. I didn't need to worry, he just does everything I ask of him without saying anything. I take his blood soaked uniform and throw it into his laundry basket, wincing in sympathy for whoever had to clean it later. When I get back to him, he is still sitting in his PJs where I left him. I sigh, "You know I'm thinking I like you better when you are trying to maim me. " He doesn't reply.

I help him stand up again and get him laying on his bed facing away from me. He still doesn't react and I'm worried. I drape him in blankets and make sure he is comfortable. There is really nothing else I can do, I don't know how to comfort the kid. Dick would know how best to comfort him.

I can feel a sting in my eyes, and quickly cut off that train of thought. I could see that Damien is still tense and he refuses to close his eyes when sleep would be very helpful for him. I can do nothing more for him so I leave his room and walk down the hall until I find what I'm looking for. I put the kitten on the bed beside Damien. I don't know which one it is as I never took the time to bother with them, but it quickly crawls up to his head and begins to lick his face. It then settles in the crook of his neck and begins to purr.

In seconds I can see the tension slowly drain away from him as he closes his eyes. I marvel at the impact of a small animal and turn to leave. However, a part of me won't allow it. So I sit down in the chair next to the head of his bed and prepare for a long night. After all, Dick would have stayed.

 **It is very hard to do the Batman so I hope I did him justice. I would love your help and your ideas with how each of the family would react in the long run. I want them to be as close to character as they can get and I'm unsure about a lot of their I am a biology student but not medical biology so I suck at medical terms. If there is a mistake please give me some constructive criticism! You guys and girls are awseomeness infinity. Thank you again, for sticking around with me to help finish the story. You rock!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Dick's POV:

I wake to a heavy blanket of darkness. My mind stuttering to come to some kind of form of consciousness. Where am I? Why am I here? I struggle to open my eyes against what I can only assume are the signature Bat pain meds. A double dose of pretty much everything. No, cant get off track, what am I doing here? Come on, Dick, open your eyes.

I crack open my eyes to what appears to be a blinding sliver of light, but after they had adjusted, turned out to be merely a light glow coming from behind the closed curtains of my bedroom. Out of instinct, I conduct a self check of any injuries I have but soon realise the batmeds are messing with pretty much all of my senses. I just feel like a heavy pile of bones and flesh under my characteristic fluffy blankets. Something feels very off and I scan the room but I see no one in sight. There is an IV drip at the foot of my bed, next to an unplugged heart monitor I assume was in use before, but there was not a single person sitting on the end of my bed or in the empty armchair next to my dresser. I was alone.

An overwhelming sense of wrong continued blaring in my head. Where is everyone? Is there some horrible disaster that has stopped them from greeting me? I couldn't remember a time where I woke up and not a single person was watching over me.

A desperate need to remember the instances of my injuries comes over me. I rock myself up onto my side and prepare to get off the bed and march through the manor until I find my wayward family, when I spot the flash of white. Stark white bandages covering the entire length of my forearms. The week rushes back to me. The robbery, early weekend, alcohol, drugs, needles and…

I gasp upon realises what I had done to myself. My breathing becomes faster and I place my head between my legs to control my breathing. Holding my head in my hands, eyes wide, I see flashes of the week in horrible high definition. "I didn't… I wouldn't….". I gasp between breaths, my voice hoarse and broken. I see the moment I grabbed the broken needle in my mind. A memory I cant forget, yet as I see the pain and damage I caused it is as though I am seeing it as a third party. I remember the pain and the hate I had but it's as if the person in my memories wasn't me. I try to understand my actions. I put all my brain power to the one question I keep asking over and over. "Why?... Why?... Why?...".

And still no one came.

Tim's POV:

The manor had never been so quiet. It had been three days since we brought Dick to the cave and he'd been unconscious since. He would have woken up a day sooner but Lesley demanded that he be kept sedated to allow the injuries to heal enough that a jostle wouldn't rip them open again. These have been some of the most painful days of my life and yet also some of the most peaceful. There was no fighting or yelling. No arguing in the kitchen. Even the usual quiet comments have been silenced as no one was in the mood to talk.

I have spent my days redoing 3 years worth of homework. Calculations, essays, lab write ups. Anything to keep my mind busy. I haven't even let myself think about him sitting quiet and still in his room. I cant even force myself to go. I know I wont be able to look at him without completely breaking down. So many questions in my mind and for once, I dont have an inkling of any answers. I'm not even sure if I want to know them.

I haven't seen Bruce or Damian in all that time. Bruce, I can only assume, is diving into his work as Batman, refusing to eat or sleep until he pummels the fight out of every criminal in Gotham. Damian I haven't see in some time. Before he always had a very regular schedule and wouldn't be too difficult to find or avoid, but now he seems to be using all his knowledge in stealth to avoid any human interaction. The only evidence of his presence still in the manor is the disappearance of the meals that Alfred puts out on the counter for all of us. Even Alfred is quieter than usual. He conducts all his duties with robotic efficiency but does not attempt to convince any of us to eat or shower or get the rest we usually avoid. To my knowledge, no one has been able to get a hold of Jason. I sent him a text to come to the manor right away but I still haven't received any answer and I am in no mood to go out and find him. Everyone has split up to try to deal with this by themselves and we have never been more divided.

Dick's POV:

Its been almost a full day since I woke up and still the only person I have seen was Alfred. He brought in some food and changed my bandages with robotic motions and I didn't know what to say so I remained silent. After he finished and made sure I wasnt going to do something stupid and hurt myself, he left as quietly and aloof as he had entered. Its almost as if he was mad at me but I felt no anger I his gaze, just a profound tiredness and all I could think was that it was all my fault.

I rotated my time between sleeping and looking out the window and pitying myself until he came. I assume it was sometime in the early morning after he had beaten out most of his aggression already and was about to turn in for the night. It was the first time I had seen him in several weeks but I did not greet him. He stood silently in the shadows of my room for a while and then started to turn away to leave without having said anything.

Desperate for some kind of break from the never ending silence I called out, "Wait, Bruce… please…". He instantly froze and turned around to look at me. Not directly at me, I could tell, but somewhere over my right shoulder, waiting for my words.

"I … I don't know what to say, Bruce…" I answered honestly.

He remained stoically silent, not reacting to my words at all. I couldn't read his reaction at all, I had no clue what he was feeling. I have always been able to figure out at least a little of what was going through his mind but I was now locked out and looking at the Batman/ Bruce Wayne visage that he shows the world without any hope of reaching him.

I looked down as I felt the tears start to form in my eyes and desperately I begged, " Bruce please… please say something. Say anything!"

"You know the questions I would ask," he said in a low voice, just above a whisper, "Do you have the answers to them? ".

I finally let the tears fall, "No. No I don't."

 **Once again, so sorry for the delay. I am not giving up. Im in university and it is taking up a lot of my time. But fear not, for this is very often on my mind. Now that summer has started I will have much more time to update this. Reviews will speed my progress. Definitely speed it. Way up. Please review. Give ideas for the story ideas for other stories, tell me how your day was. Let me know you are all still out there. Live long and prosper my friends.**


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